Mary Anne and Logan
by mcpon14
Summary: Mary Anne is the narrator. Mary Anne and Logan's relationship is going through a rough patch in this story. Alternate universe. Oneshot


"I'm going to a coffee shop to finish up my paper. I like the ambience," I wrote on my Facebook page, updating my status.

Then immediately a comment popped up: "Can I come?" It was Logan Bruno, my boyfriend. I could imagine his Southern accent wafting to my ears through my speakers as I read it.

"Sure!" I replied.

* * *

I was sitting in Argo with my books and notes scattered on a table. I was staring at my blank lined paper. I was assigned the Los Angeles Riots in Watts to write about for Social Studies. It just did not interest me at all. I wished that I had been given a topic that hit closer to my own geographical region. I wished more than ever that the paper could write itself.

My mind drifted to certain movie scenes that I have attached fondness to. A scene from Forrest Gump played in my head. It was the famous part of the movie where Forrest sitting on a bench at a bus stop offers a lady some chocolates. Oh, how I would've loved chocolates right about now. The sweet gastronomic ecstacy of every bite. The gorgeous sensation of momentary bliss. I could be addicted to them if I wasn't careful.

I then thought about my braids. The braids I was forced to wear up to when I was twelve. How confining they were - when combined with the other restrictions that my father used to put on me. Oh, how they were the symbol for that ugly past. And how liberating eating chocolates are whenever I do! The contrast between the two thoughts makes me want the candy more.

But I would settle for my kitty. For my Mousey-kin. Right about now. I wish that I had brought him here. Oh how I wished that I had! I wish that I had a clone that could bring him to me right about now.

I suddenly feel a terrible loss. A yearning for my Mousey-kin. I have made a terrible mistake for coming here. As if I'm robbing myself - my own self - of our time together.

I collect my books, notes and notebooks and practically sweep them into my backpack and head for the door.

"Pfft. Never buys anything," the cashier commented as I passed by him.

* * *

I am home with my kitten, laying on my bed, tickling his back gently. He suddenly flips onto his back and playfully bats my finger back and forth.

I sigh. This Social Studies paper REALLY is not going to write itself.

I flop backwards on my bed. Re-er! Tigger screech as he dove out of the way of my body.

"I'm sorry Tigger," I said frowning with apologetic sincerity.

As I looked at him, I fell in love with him even more.

RIINNG.

I ran downstairs and opened the door.

"You look fabulous today, Mary Anne. Absolutely fabulous, " Logan said in his distinct accent. "But weren't we supposed to meet at Argo around half-an-hour ago?"

I gasped. "I'm sorry, Logan."

"It doesn't matter," he shook off.

Then he ran out to the middle of my front yard, jumped up in the air, and landed on his side with the point of the elbow impacting the ground first.

I ran out and kicked him in the nuts.

"Who has been stalking whom now, jerk!" I yelled. "Leave me alone! Don't call me! Quit following me around on Facebook!"

"Arrr," he groaned squeezing his thighs and knees together as he rocked from side to side on his heels, upper back and butt.

"I was going to buy coffee today for the first time in my life so I could throw it in your FACE!" I shouted downward standing over him.

"But . . . but, but . . . I still love you Mary Anne," he managed to eke out through teeth clenched because of the pain.

But no that's not what happened. But it was the scene that played through my mind as I stood there smiling sweetly at him. I used the memories of his sexy accent to help my acting here.

"Hi Logan," I said brightly.

"Hi Mary Anne," he ventured unsure. "I'm glad that you are finally speaking to me again. I'm sorry that I missed you at Argo. Can we talk?"

"Sure," I replied. "I'll be right back. I'll get us some sodas."

* * *

I came back with two cans of grape soda.

"Aagh. Aagh. Aagh. Aagh," he yelled moving his jaws up and down in an exaggerated fashion clapping his teeth together whenever the mouth came together. His arms were extended straight out from his body, his hands were limp at the ends, and he was swaying his hips back and forth.

Then he brought his hands in, curled his fingers and pantomimed hitting a speed bag with loose fists. He had tilted his head back and scrunched up his lips but left his mouth open.

"Whiirrrrrr," he bellowed upwardly.

"Hey! Stop it!" I demanded putting the sodas down on the porch. "This is why I don't want to be with you anymore!"

Then he brought his arms out again flapping them up and down like a bird. His head was still tilted back. "La, la, la, la," he sang.

Then he stopped abruptly with a collective droop of his body, arms limp at the sides, back hunched and shoulders slumped.

He looked up at me with a deep frown as if he's really sorry and is begging to be forgiven.

"Stay," I commanded.

I went back inside with a half-slamming of the door.

"You see what you made me do!" I chided from right behind it. "I know that you are great with kids but you can't act like that when we're out together!"

I waited for a response but it seemed hushed from his end.

Maybe he left?

I opened the door a little hiding behind it and peeked out. I couldn't see him.

Then I threw it open, semi-wide, and scanned my front yard. I couldn't spot Logan anywhere.

"Yipee!" I rejoiced as I ran out to the middle of the yard and did a backflip. I was only able to make three-fourth of the full revolution rendering me to land on my chest on the grass. I brought my knees in towards my stomach and placed my palms on the ground about to hop onto my feet and get myself up off of it. But the moment that my butt was briefly up in the air while my knees were in, I felt a foot placed on a cheek then push, spilling me sprawled onto my belly.

I heard Logan's laughter behind me.

I quickly got to my feet. "We can act like this," I told him facing him. "But you need to tone it down. Way down. You need to know about appropriate and inappropriate times."

"Okay," he agreed.

Then he ran a little ways. "DUR," he said contorting his face.

He then dipped his head down and sprinted towards a tree using the crown of his skull as the focal point for the impact. It of course was followed by a sickly crunching collision. I was about to do it too but decided not to after I saw the wreckage of a sight he presented to me laying there unmoving but breathing.


End file.
